


This Might As Well Happen

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Criminal Kuroo, Hostage Kenma, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:56:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3600534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, let’s do this easy, all right?  Don’t say anything, don’t struggle, and I promise that I will get you home safe and happy."</p>
<p>Kenma did not think criminals normally acted this way, but what did he know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Might As Well Happen

Kenma crouched close to the ground, and he held his game close to his chest. His fingers still brushed the buttons as if he planned to start playing again any second, but his muscles stayed tense, and he closed his eyes. If he blended in with everyone else in this same position, no one would notice him, and he would be okay.

He used that logic in his everyday life, but today, the motto became even more important.

Another gunshot echoed down the tunnel of the subway, and muffled screams and whimpers answered in return. Kenma did not make a sound as he huddled closer in on himself.

When the conductor came on the intercom to inform everyone that two suspicious characters with guns had boarded the car, everyone dropped to the floor and curled into defensive positions. A couple of bigger men and an athletic woman kept to their feet, but Kenma did not see the point in their act of heroism. Even the strongest bodies faded in comparison to a gun.

The whole thing was inconvenient, and Kenma cursed the circumstances that landed him in the unluckiest subway in the city at eleven at night. He only stayed out so late to pick up his new video game that was just released, and now his parents would worry.

Even worse, the fiasco had made him pause and save his game, the device better protected than even his person.

Another shot fired, this time closer. The couple next to Kenma trembled in their fear.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled: “To the men attacking this subway, the police are on their way. If you leave now without attacking anyone, no harm will come to you either. If you don’t… The police will take over.”

Kenma thought the threat might have worked better if the conductor’s voice had not trembled during the execution.

“Sniveling liar,” laughed a deep voice. Everyone in the subway car tensed as two figures in black entered their space. “The police are already here. We try to leave now, and they’ll gun us down.”

Kenma glanced at the three who remained standing to fight. He saw that they now sat, their eyes wide with fear, in the face of the two very real guns held by two very real criminals. Kenma tried not to sigh. It was probably for the best.

The two men did not seem inclined to scatter metal into their flesh even in the face of law enforcement right outside. Kenma considered that a good sign, and if they wanted to take one person out to prove a point? Kenma never stood out in a crowd, and he preferred it that way.

“I guess we’ll have to invoke Plan F,” the other man supplied, and he seemed to be laughing as well.

Kenma wondered if all criminals behaved in this way or if this pair just seemed particularly inept… or stupid.

“You wanna do it or me?” the first man asked.

Kenma kept his head bowed down, and oddly, the brief silence that followed after the masked man’s question made him feel hot and uncomfortable. The same sensation he suffered during school when he walked in the cafeteria and he worried that everyone stared at him even though logically they probably weren’t.

“I’ll do it,” the second man finally answered.

There was a static noise, and the first man bellowed into the intercom, “Pull to a stop. We’re getting out.”

The conductor must have broken something in the speed that he brought the subway to a halt. Kenma wondered if they even made it to a station.

Then he stopped thinking at all as a warm arm wrapped around his stomach and pulled him to his feet. The heat of another human being, his chest against Kenma’s back, felt all the more shocking in comparison to the cold metal of the gun barrel pressed against his temple.

“Okay, let’s do this easy, all right? Don’t say anything, don’t struggle, and I promise that I will get you home safe and happy,” the criminal whispered into his ear.

Kenma offered no reaction other than the widening of his eyes and the slight catch of his breath. He clutched his handheld game tighter, and he distantly hoped this guy wouldn’t jostle him enough to make him drop it. All other relevant thoughts teetered too close to an edge that Kenma did not want to topple over.

The door slid open, and as the second criminal pulled Kenma to the exit, he felt the relief of the other passengers. Their bodies relaxed with thoughts of ‘At least it’s not me.’ Kenma could not blame them. He was fully prepared to be in their place if the criminals chose to make an example of someone. He simply never dreamed he, an unimpressive small boy with roots that needed touched up, would be the person that caught their attention.

The first criminal joined the side of the one that held Kenma, and they approached the door together. The light blinded Kenma unexpectedly, and he blinked several times before the picture in front of him came into focus.

The masked men were right. The police must have been waiting for him this entire time.

It seemed like the entire force waited in a semi-circle formation, shields and guns all posed to defend and attack. Red and blue lights flashed, and Kenma squinted his eyes. He almost found the illumination more offending that the gun pressed against his head.

“If you take one step forward, we will blow this kid’s brains out!” the first criminal bellowed.

The arm around his waist tightened, and Kenma wanted to complain. This position hurt, and with all these eyes on him, he wanted to hide in a hole. He wanted to go home and play his game.

The masked man promised him as much, and Kenma did not quite understand that. Nor did he trust it. Nevertheless, Kenma spent a lot of time observing people, and the second criminal had not displayed any of the signs of lying. Of course, he could not see his face either.

The police did not lower their guns, but they did not fire them either. The two criminals, dragging Kenma along, eased away from their tensed glares and darted down the subway tunnel. Kenma wanted to mention the infamous third rail, but apparently, the criminals already thought of that. As soon as they were out of sight of the police, they broke into jaunty runs, careful to avoid the dangerous places.

Kenma tried to keep up even in the awkward position that the criminal held him, but his feet shuffled awkwardly on the concrete. When the masked man realized the problem, he hoisted Kenma over his shoulder as if he was nothing but a child.

“Hey,” Kenma protested. Still, he did not struggle. He only held his game tighter in his hands.

“About time you talk. I was beginning to wonder if you were mute,” the criminal laughed.

Kenma wanted to glare at him, but as he now faced the tunnel behind them, that became rather difficult. He tried not to think about how the criminal now clutched his thighs to hold him in place.

“I can’t even tell if he’s scared,” the first criminal said. “Weird hostage you picked, but if he gets us out of this, I have no complaints.”

“Hostage?” Kenma repeated.

The second man shrugged which only caused Kenma to bounce more than before. “More or less. We’ll let you go as soon as the opportunity presents itself.”

“Safe and happy,” Kenma reminded him.

The criminal laughed. “Safe and happy,” he confirmed.

The first man stopped at a workman’s doorway, and he pulled out a key that unlocked the door flawlessly. The two criminals, with Kenma along, went inside and locked the door behind them. Kenma heard the click, and though he could not see in the dark, the air smelled cleaner than in the tunnel.

The man who held him must have sensed his surprise. “You know, we did think this through. We planned this from the start.”

Kenma mumbled something.

“What was that?”

“You said Plan F on the subway.”

“So what? We planned a lot of things from the start. Only some of them are coming in handy,” he replied.

“Hey, stop socializing and help me with this,” the first criminal scolded.

Kenma tried not to make a noise as he suddenly slid off the man’s shoulder and stood on his own two feet. He breathed deeply without hindrance to his lungs, and he brought his game to his chest. Even turned off, the technology soothed him.

“We haven’t used this one in forever. The catch is sticking,” the first man muttered, apparently to his partner.

“Well, we call it Bunker Z for a reason. It’s always the last resort,” he replied.

Kenma heard metal clinking and soft grunts from their exertion. He suddenly felt awkward standing in the dark, and he wondered what this place could possibly be that they took a subway tunnel and then a workman’s passage to get here. Probably underground but with some connection to the outside if the cleaner air meant anything. Kenma guessed this was one of their hideouts by the grumbled conversation earlier.

The whole situation came less of a shock to Kenma than it should have. Life always seemed so drab and colorless to him that all events registered the same way to his mind: indifferent, unimportant, what did he care. Only video games brought him some semblance of happiness.

Everything else was an annoyance that gave his anxiety hell.

He should have felt the same way about his apparent kidnapping, but he felt no need to impress these two guys. This whole scenario felt outside of real life, almost like one of his games.

Besides, they promised to get him home, and though Kenma felt like a fool for believing them, he did.

“Got it!”

A final creak of metal accompanied the exclamation. A moment later, light washed over Kenma. When he opened his eyes, he saw a circular opening and the two men beckoning him inside it. For the first time during this experience Kenma hesitated, and the first man pulled him inside and shut the door behind them. Kenma had not even had a chance to observe his surroundings.

As soon as he joined them inside the bunker, the two criminals seemed to forget about him at all. They focused on unbuckling their vests and pulling off their combat boots.

Kenma took the opportunity to note the two cots, the sink, and the mini fridge that took up the space. It seemed relatively clean if not a little dusty. He sat down on one of the cots and fired up his game.

He barely glanced up when they took off their masks.

The one who held him had black hair that stuck up in an impressive shape considering the mask had pressed it against his head moments ago. Now in only regular jeans and a T-shirt, Kenma could see the muscles bulging in his arms. No wonder his grip had hurt so much.

The other criminal sported gray and black hair that rose to the sky, and Kenma thought they must use the same industrial-strength hair gel. Though slightly shorter than the first one, he bore more muscles and a shark-like grin.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?” the black-haired one asked.

“Playing a game,” Kenma muttered. He passed the first two levels on the subway before the threat arose. Now he worked on the third.

Kenma tensed at the sound of laughter, but unlike the kids at school, these guys seemed to find genuine amusement in his tendency to play his game in every social situation. He eventually relaxed and focused on his game once again.

“You have a name?” black-hair asked.

Kenma tried not to feel annoyed at the second interruption. “Kenma,” he answered. “Why are we here?”

Gray-and-black hair snorted.

“Just letting things die down for now,” black-hair supplied. “We’ll take you home after dark. I’m Kuroo, and this is Bokuto. We promise not to kill you.”

“I figured,” Kenma mumbled and returned his full focus to the game. Not that he ever looked up to begin with.

Kuroo and Bokuto huddled on the other cot and whispered. Kenma purposefully tuned them out. They probably spoke of their next heists or how to pawn off whatever they stole this time. He found that he now felt bored of the whole situation, and his video game offered the only comfort he needed. His mind filled with calculations only relevant in the digitalized world in his hand, and hours passed in minutes.

Then his screen filled with red, and his stomach turned over.

“Is something wrong?” Kuroo asked. He picked up on Kenma’s emotions better than anyone he had ever known.

Kenma muttered, “Low battery.”

He only just realized that he left his bag on the subway. With his cell phone, wallet, and charger.

Kuroo laughed. “If I want to hold up on the ‘happy’ part of our deal, I better get you home now,” he said.

Kenma wondered how a criminal that took him hostage could understand him in a few hours better than everyone in his life who had known him since birth. Bokuto looked at his partner as if he was crazy. Kenma showed no expression at all.

Bokuto stayed behind, but Kuroo guided him out of the bunker, and through a series of passages that Kenma did not bother to remember, they came out in a discreet ally on upper ground.

“Where do you live? I’ll walk you home,” Kuroo offered.

“I can walk on my own,” Kenma said.

“A scrawny defenseless kid like you? No way. Someone needs to protect you from criminals and the like,” Kuroo countered.

Kenma stared at him for a long time, and Kuroo blushed when he realized the words that had come from his own mouth. “I’m not really the bad guy you know. The guns are for show. We didn’t hurt anyone,” he grumbled.

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” Kenma said. Though now that Kuroo said it, Kenma wasn’t surprised. “You can walk me home I guess.”

Kenma told him his address, and he did not consider how that was not a smart thing to do in regard to a known criminal. He figured he had gone along with everything this far. He might as well go the whole way. At least they hadn’t exchanged numbers or agreed to ‘do this again’ or something like that.

Kuroo waked him home like the perfect gentleman, and his easy conversation about his favorite bagel shops and love for volleyball distracted Kenma from the dead game in his hands. When they reached Kenma’s house, Kuroo clapped him on the back and then faded into the greying darkness of early morning.

Kenma hesitated outside his own home and wondered when his indifference faded away to something almost pleasant. Perhaps a little excitement outside a video game did him some good.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote when I was procrastinating writing something else. I apologize for the lack of quality...


End file.
